


Vith Vithi Cha

by AmbidextrousArcher



Category: Mahabharata - Vyasa
Genre: Gen, Major Character Injury, canon-divergence, non-canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25971619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmbidextrousArcher/pseuds/AmbidextrousArcher
Summary: What if Arjun wasn't too late to save Abhimanyu? A (slightly) darker version of Atmatraan, where no one is hurt and everything ends happily.Here, someone is hurt, but things end happily nonetheless.Vith Vithi Cha- Sanskrit (Lost and Found)
Relationships: Abhimanyu & Arjuna (Mahabharata), Arjuna & Bhima
Comments: 10
Kudos: 11
Collections: Hindu Mythology Event





	1. Abhimanyu

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dwij008](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dwij008/gifts), [Pratigyakrishnaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pratigyakrishnaki/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Atmatraan](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18409925) by [AmbidextrousArcher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmbidextrousArcher/pseuds/AmbidextrousArcher). 



> Please be forewarned: This fic deals with a PoV character being injured in the second chapter.  
> Since this is first person PoV, the characters of the opposite side might not seem appropriately nuanced to the reader.

I shoot arrow after arrow as fast as I could, but the tide of warriors hemming me in seem to be increasing rather than decreasing in number. I blink away the sweat that drips into my eyes, smarting and wet, trying my hardest to find a chink, a weakness in the inner phalanx of the formation I find myself stranded in. Breaking the Chakravyuh is easy enough. Staying there seems to be a bitter struggle. _Where are my uncles? I cannot last here much longer…_

I jump down just in time as the chariot breaks to pieces. “Sumitra, save yourself!” My warning is of no use, for Sumitra is already dead, his hands still fisting in the wood of the chariot. _Not now, Abhi._ I cannot afford to lose ground now, not when Taathshree Yudhisthir’s empire, Dharma itself, depends on it. I can recognize the people who surround me now. _This is the inside of the formation, then._ I can make out Acharya Dron’s disappointed face, Ashwattama’s resolute one, and of course, Karn’s leer, drunk on blood lust. I meet their eyes defiantly. _I might not make it out alive, but by the Mahadev, I’ll give them a fight!_

Luckily, I escaped the worst of injuries, shielded as I was by near-impenetrable armor. Pitashree had taken special care with my armor this morning.

Unfortunately, my quiver emptied out, all the spare ones lost with my chariot. _Well, it matters not._ I draw my sword. I do not say a word as they all attack me at once, Karn, Acharya Dron, Ashwatthama, Tathshree Duryodhan, Vrishasen and Lakshman. Instead, I concentrate on keeping my feet steady on the slippery mud of the battlefield.

Tiredness threatens to overcome me, my throat dry and tasting of metal, and yet there is no relief from the fighting. I continue on grimly, holding my sword tight in sweaty palms.

I struggle to breathe, taking a desperate lunge at Karn. Suddenly, there is a ringing at the back of my head, soon followed by a burst of white-hot pain. I try my hardest to stay on my feet, but to no avail. I fall on the mud. One of the six warriors, I cannot say who, is standing over me with a sword. I struggle, managing to dislodge him of me. I cannot concentrate through the ringing in my head. Everything is a haze, I can feel myself losing control…

“Abhi! Thank God, you’re awake!” I come back to my senses to the sound of Maamaashree Krishna’s worried voice. I nod. _Not a good idea._ The pain makes me groan. “Just a little more, Abhi.” “You aren’t…feeding me food, Maamaashree,” Maamaashree gives me the barest flicker of a smile as he stops the chariot and helps me down.

We are immediately surrounded by my relieved brothers. “Abhi!” Together, the five of them nearly carry me to my tent.

“Except for the head injury, there is nothing to worry about,” Vaidyaji reassures Tathshree Yudhisthir. _Thank goodness._ I can still fight tomorrow. I still feel dizzy but manage to sit erect. My muscles stretch painfully, and I nearly fall back on the bed. Tathshree is at my side, helping me lie down. _Where is Pitashree?_ Without realizing it, I had asked that question out loud. “He is still in the battlefield.” _Oh._ “He will be back, Abhi.” _Of course, he will._ Pitashree is the best warrior in Aryavrat. “He is.” This is Tathshree Bheem. I seem to be thinking aloud quite a lot today. I can feel myself flushing. Tathshree Yudhisthir runs a hand over my hair. “It’s alright. You’ll be fine.” I look blearily up at them, the siren song of sleep tugging me under. Tathshree Bheem smiles at me as I sink back into sleep.


	2. Arjun-I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arjun's thoughts when he learns of and infiltrates the Chakravyuh.

I sag back into the seat of the chariot, exhausted. Defeating the Sampatakas, much as I hate to admit it, has taken a lot out of me. I wince slightly as sweat makes the still bleeding wounds scattered on my torso burn. My eyes automatically track Lord Surya, still on his track home. “Krishna.” He does not respond, his eyes staring far away. “Krishna?” He starts. “Parth.” His voice is tense, tenser than I have ever heard it. _The battle is not yet over, the worst is yet to come_. “We go to the thick of the fight, _sakhe.”_ He nods. The wheels of the chariot seem to fly across the battle-scarred land of Kurukshetra, and I have a hard time holding in the pain I am in. I grit my teeth and keep my mouth shut. _Kshatriya Dharma, Arjun. Remember your Dharma._

My eyes alight on a familiar formation and I force myself to stand erect, Gandiva in my hand. _Thank the Gods._ I have not unstrung her. As we go nearer, worry begins to rear its head. _Chakravyuh._ I look at Krishna, confused. But for Krishna, I and Pradyumana, no one knows how to…Gods. _Abhi._ I had taught Abhi how to enter the vyuh.

“Krishna!” He gives me a grim nod. I fight the panic welling in me. My voice, much to my own astonishment, comes out even, calm. “We break the vyuh. I will step down into the yudhh-kshetr, you get Abhi out of there. I will fight my way out on foot.” Krishna stops the chariot for a split second to turn and look at me. The creases on his forehead deepen as he takes me in. “Parth…are you sure you can-“ I nod determinedly. “Abhi is our priority. I can take care of myself.” _Even if not, better die fulfilling my duty as a father. I cannot fail Abhi like I did Iravan._ Krishna nods.

Breaking through the formation is easy, my son has accomplished more than half of that on his own. Once we enter the inner ring, my breath stocks. _Abhi!_ I refuse to allow fear to overtake me, as I calmly shoot at my child’s assailant. The arrow finds its mark, and that’s when they notice me. All six of them, from Ashwatthama, to Vasusen to Gurudev turn to me, bows strung and shafts whizzing. I smile as I face them. _Good._ _Krishna has time enough to get Abhi to safety._

It is a good thing that focus comes automatically to me. I empty my mind of all thoughts, methodically stringing arrows and firing them. My arrows find their mark in the enemy warriors, but so do some of theirs. _It does not matter._ I force myself to focus on my opponents rather than their weapons.

“Look how the mighty have fallen.” _Vasusen. The braggart needs to brag even now!_ “Fallen of my own will,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady as I shoot him square in the beds of his fingernails. As soon as that, he’s on the retreat, howling in pain. I cast a glance at the others, none of whom look very surprised. _They have probably gotten used to him running away_ , I muse wryly.

I sprint towards the opening in the formation, the battle rush sustaining me. Ashwatthama and Gurudev try to engage me but I slide out of the disorderly formation easily. _That’s the one advantage being on foot offers you._

Once I am clear of the fight, with the Sun traversing to His rest, I still for a moment, assessing the situation. My tunic is sticking wetly to my skin, beneath the layers of armor broken at places. I am barely able to control a shiver of cold. _Deep breath, Parth. Get to the camp._

Every movement is painful, tired muscles cramping against the strain, fresh blood spurting from disturbed wounds. _I cannot give up. I must see to Abhi’s safety._

I take refuge in the past as I force myself on. Refuge in the memories of mata’s hugs, of Bhraata Bheem’s boisterous laughter, in… I don’t notice when I knock into someone. I lose my footing, nearly falling. “Whoa! Easy there!” I shakily regain my balance, managing not to fall. It is one of the guards. “Watch where you’re going, will you?” I look at him, confused. I can hear voices mixed with laughter from inside the tent.

“You nearly barged into the Samrat’s tent. He is within, conferring with his brothers. Most of their sons are also there.” He looks at me cursorily. “You’re injured quite badly. Wait, I will call for Vaidyaji.”

Shaking my head, I swallow, forcing words out of my dry throat, tendrils of fear coiling deep inside me once more. “Abhi? Is he…” The man’s eyes widen in recognition as he takes me in, Gandiva still somehow clutched firmly in my shaking hands. “Rajkumar Abhimanyu is alright. Kshama, Rajkumar Arjun, I did not recognize…” I acknowledge him with a nod as I stumble forward, my hand at the flap of the tent.

Distantly, I can hear the guard shouting for the Vaidya.

My head is swimming, everything a buzz around me. I struggle with the flaps, voices ringing in my head. “Pradyu! That’s unfair!” “Too bad, Abhi, it seems Chaachashree did not teach you to cheat.” “My father’s not a cheater.” _Pradyumana. Abhi. They are safe._

I smile, somehow managing to open the flaps. Bhraata Bheem and Bhraata Yudhisthir look up, startled, as I stand unsteadily at the entrance of the tent. The boys are busy in their horseplay still. “Jyeshth Bhraata,” I say quietly, my voice coming out hoarse even to me. My elder brothers get to their feet as I stagger in, catching me as my legs finally give out. “Arjun!” Bhraata Bheem is lifting me. I struggle to stand on my own, but I can’t. The dizziness just gets worse if I try to. Bhraata Bheem stills me, a hand on my shoulder. “I’ve got you, little hurricane,” The childhood nickname makes me grin as Bhraata Bheem gently lowers me onto a bed, and I give in to an exhausted sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Comments? Please refrain from flames.


End file.
